


Season of the Frosted Sun

by dracaenamarginata



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom!Will, Catatonic!Hannibal, Combat Nightmares/Flashbacks, Comfort, Crossdressing, F/M, Fucking Romantic as Shit, Gender Dysphoria, Hannibal AU, M/M, Multi, Other, Sexual Surrogacy (kind of), Top!Alana, True Love, UNTIL THEY DON'T, Will is a Veteran, Yes- Gay Stuff Happens, and Straight but in Love w/Hanni, and have a Threesome w/Alana, they Live on the Streets, who Struggles w/Addiction (to Cannibalism)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracaenamarginata/pseuds/dracaenamarginata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on actual events of actuality.</p><p>But no actual cannibals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Season of the Frosted Sun

**Author's Note:**

> ...just beyond immediate grasp.

The young man had come to him with a vague complaint of trouble sleeping.

Bespectacled and casually dressed, but posture far too rigid to have known only civilian life.

He spoke of the mundane things of the everyday. Meals. Music. People he saw walking past him in the street. On the bus. In the park. 

Even home in his tiny apartment high above the city, where he should have felt safe, he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time on the balcony. In cold weather in a sweatshirt and coat, smoking and reading or just thinking on things. Gazing into the horizon.

Walls made him fearful. Behind a wall one could never know what lie ahead.  
Or behind or beside. Left worrying about the bad things. Not knowing the good. 

The color of evening light sparkling in speckled autumn leaves. Majestic skyscrapers not so much scraping as shrouded. Every density of smog and piece of the prism reflected therein. Most especially the people. Going about the same business of life he was in. He had trouble believing it when he woke up each morning.  
Until he saw it.

He was a Marine until he wasn't. He hadn't omitted anything in the intake paperwork. 

He could manage himself part-time. Stocking shelves in one of the few outdoor suppliers in the city. Until he couldn't. 

He started coming in twice a week instead of once. And then he didn't come. Didn't call. 

The one time he hadn't come before, he had called. Voice apologetic. Genuine.  
Something was wrong. 

He never came close to what he had come to talk about. His therapist didn't know if it was Iraq or Afghanistan. Or both. How many tours. Or what he did. Or how many deaths he saw. Or how many he saw through crosshairs. But he knew it was many. 

The young man brought fresh pieces of humanity on his shoulders to every session. The slightest glance from a passerby stamped firmly in his psyche. He had lived so many lives in the span of less than half of one. So very tired. Too many he had come to know in their last moments. English, Arabic, Farsi... the pain felt the same. And the sameness hurt because it was the same. A sea of unrequited humanity.  
And when they departed, a little bit of him felt like it would never return. 

In his darkest moments he knew it wouldn't.  
In his best times he could still glimpse it- just beyond immediate grasp.

When he spoke it was with an urgency. Some sessions he barely said a word and still the desperation in radiating waves. His therapist could feel it viscerally and realized this was how his patient must experience any and all connection, the wanted and the not. As long as he could remember. Had stopped questioning it.  
But still there was the question of how long he could stand it.

His therapist found himself wanting with every fiber of his being to grab his patient and pull some of that pain from his eyes- anything he could manage to take on himself. It didn't matter if he was with a colleague or alone or with another patient. Will never left him.

-

Didn't answer the phone.  
No emergency contact.  
Rent wasn't overdue enough for the building manager to start giving away his things just yet, but there didn't seem to be any personal photographs anyway, she offered. He wasn't sure if she had actually looked or not, but he didn't expect there would be any either way.  
Left with nothing to show anyone who may recognize him. 

Police said to wait twenty-four hours to report him missing. And that didn't mean they would look. 

He would.

He would look.

He began with fantasies of a quick search and grateful reunion. Not based in likelihood but he let himself believe in the possibility just a little. 

Circling his patient's former residence in an ever-widening spiral, asking anyone who looked rooted to their respective corners of metropolis. Street people, convenience store clerks, law enforcement officers. He knew he should be checking hospitals and morgues. Couldn't bring himself to just yet. And it didn't seem quite right. His patient wasn't suicidal. No checklist could tell him that. He had looked into those eyes many times and it simply wasn't there. From the outside it would have looked wishful. From within it was plain as day. Of this he was strangely certain.

Nevertheless, with evening close on the second day he found himself almost expecting the worst. The body would turn up downriver. Maybe not until spring. Almost expecting the worst. But not quite.

He recognized the coat first. Saffron buffalo plaid. Head completely obscured under a hood, huddled against the wind on a public park bench. Scattered oak trees of enormous size looked about to consume the tiny creatures in their path. There were a few souls on and around other benches in small groups of two to four. The one he came for was alone in his aloneness. Until he glanced up. Never going more than a few minutes without updating himself of his environment. Survival instincts still strong. A reassuring sign.

A weak smile in lips pressed thinly, tightly together. Perhaps some relief in those eyes. Maybe a bit of joy. Either too weary for surprise or not surprised at all.

“I thought you were dead.”

The smile grew a little. The eyes warmed. He didn't have much strength left but he could borrow some momentum.  
His doctor stayed with him through the night. And the next. And the next. Until weeks and months merged together and were forgotten in concept and Hanni was Hanni.

-

They had the park in daylight. Will waiting anxiously for his companion to return from the library. With it's massive, foreboding walls, he couldn't fathom going near it, let alone inside. The thought of his friend all by himself in there made him nearly bolt from his seat atop a picnic table to rescue him. Instead he smoked now so as not to bother Hanni later. 

Therapy continued in earnest. Numb purgatory where nothing was especially good or exceptionally bad had given way to flash floods of raw emotion. He could see the atomic weight of everything beautiful and the faintest dusting of lint on everything that was pain. Generally all at once and without a word for any of it.  
Sometimes the only appropriate therapy was to be held.

If he had just offered warmth sooner. Let his patient see with absolute clarity how much he was loved. It might not have come to this.

“It's not your fault.”

Words had returned to him and he was reading his friend's thoughts. Or feeling them or somehow just knowing.

There was no response.

-

January. 

No need to glance at a newsstand to know that. In the most extreme depth of winter the Baltimore air held a standard of cold and dry that made the space between you and whatever you were looking at appear electrified in an insidious way. As if the atmosphere were waiting for any excuse to spark and ignite. Sunbeams so weak yet unfiltered through water vapor. Pure sharp white light. The sun itself so indirect. Barely recognizable behind a veil of frost.

Will ate quickly from tinfoil. The glove on his right hand had had to come off, but the one on the left remained as a kind of oven mitt where he cupped the foil.

If he asked where the meat came from the answer was always an alley behind a grocery. Perhaps it actually was on occasion. Sometimes the food was imbued with an essence of tobacco. Or gin. Or something very bitter Will presumed to be some kind of medication that collected in tissues over time. 

“Is this poisonous?”

“No.”

He saw Hanni regard a nine-to-fiver as he kicked a fellow traveler who was only asleep and out of the way. Feeling entitled because he had a bad day. If the look of serene determination clouding over reptilian eyes was any indication, that day was about to get worse.

Yes, it horrified him. Yes, he was honored his friend would go to such lengths to care for him. Staving off hunger and anemia and hypothermia and muscle wasting and on and on. The sheer number of calories it took just to keep warm was staggering. Most everyone around them could afford to be a part of civilization. They couldn't.

At least that was what Will liked to rehearse in his head.

The reality was much simpler.

“Umh... don't you have money?”

“Yes.”

“Ummmmm...”

“Tell me if you need some.”

Everything in the basement storage freezer had always been properly butchered before freezing and everything in wine barrels should be dissolved by now.  
Hanni wasn't concerned anything would be recognized should anyone be looking through his abandoned home. Unless they happened to be in possession of a surgical background. Which was unlikely, but still he would pay his former residence a visit if he needed to stay away much longer.

He knew Will knew and Will knew Hanni knew he knew and nothing was said as Hanni watched him eat, barely touching his own meal.  
Will nudged the foil in his friend's hand and made pleading eye contact until the food began to be consumed with more intent. 

You need me as much as I need you.  
Another uncomfortable truth Will didn't always have the strength to deny. 

Still, it didn't stop him from thinking about leaving. Protect his friend from this life. Even going so far as staying the winter in Baltimore instead of risk unfamiliarity unraveling some progress. How much- they didn't know.

Tents and sleeping bags immobilized and, in Baltimore, could reasonably be considered a suicide attempt. Most nights they could manage. An especially large, transparently enclosed and little-used stairwell along the side of a parking garage facing a former gas station. Will could walk until he was too tired to conjure much of a panic attack before sheltering for the night.

Layering multiple t-shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants over jeans, coats, caps, hoods, gloves, mittens, scarves, and several wool blankets was usually enough. Tonight was exceptional. Hanni found the one partnerless blanket tossed at his head, Will stubbornly insistent on shivering his way through half-sleep.

Grabbing every blanket and stacking them like pages in a book and wrapping Will and himself tightly together. Underneath the nest of blankets he pulled tighter still, not only for warmth but, taking a cue from the works of Temple Grandin, primal calming pressure. 

“I'll hurt you.”  
Hanni still had fading bruises from the last arctic night, when nightmares had convinced Will of the need to defend himself.

“Sssshhh.” Ears aligned and stroking the back of Will's head.

No strength to cry but still the tears came.  
“I took it all."

“You gave me everything.”

-

March.

Instead of pacing the city aimlessly as usual while his friend “foraged,” he had decided to follow him. 

Intending to confront. 

Finding himself just watching. Silent and obscured.

-

Whomever was roasting smelled good. Probably an improvement.

“I saw you today.”

No response.

“Who is this?”

“A street person.”

“What did he do?”

“He was raping another street person. I brought her to the ER. Waited three days. Came back for him.”

“I like him better this way.”

“It's not a standard difficult to improve upon.”

“But this has to stop."  
"I think we should look for a place. Mostly windows. High ceiling. Not too many walls. I can handle the stairs now.”

“One bedroom.”

“Two.”


	2. Close to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...this time just because he could.

September.

Three drops blueberry.

One drop tea tree.

Two cups heavy cream.

He watched the essential oils emulsify as he whisked the cream. 

The cream was the intermediary (or indermedairy, sorry- couldn't help it:)   
Oil dissolved in cream, but not water. Cream dissolved in water. 

But that wasn't really true. The cream wasn't the conduit.

He shed his robe and closed his eyes. Kept them tight until he was safely concealed in bathwater.

He was still a working psychiatrist. Albeit one with a reputation for leaving without notice and therefore now without a practice. A state university contact had taken pity and offered a position as a research assistant, although he was often mistaken for a lead and generally didn't correct on that point.

Will fared better. Hanni had made sure of it. A small retail space leased in the right location. Fly-tying and bow-making. The art and craft of it. Held an appeal with a certain outdoorsy/hipster hybrid. The kind that organized tweed-clad bicycle rides. Good people who enjoyed Will's evening classes and demonstrations, as much a singles' event as anything. He soon adopted the motto 'bring your own beer.' People seemed to enjoy it.

Tonight was one such class. On nights like these Hanni often found himself unable to escape himself. Morose fog clouding his psyche. Only fitting to bathe in milk.

Recalling previous ambivalence. Now despair. Who he was physically. A physical barrier from the one he loved more than anything.

-

Will was okay in the lobby. Took the stairs if he had the energy. Elevator if he didn't, eyes closed. The halls weren't narrow, but there was a semi-diagonal angular bend halfway to his door. Once past it, finding himself running furiously, catching his breath before unlocking the door. If he were not so winded he would have liked to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

Still, he couldn't deny how much progress he'd made. And behind the door was the means with which he had made it. And the reason he did.

He shouldn't take it for granted that dinner would be waiting for him, it's just that it almost always was. At least a sandwich or salad in the fridge. It had that familiar taste a few times. Twice he got upset and once he was tired and pretended not to notice. 

Their home was dark and silent. He knew he wouldn't find anything in the refrigerator, but still he opened it expectantly.

He would just go to bed. Whatever was going around, he was coming down with it.

-

Hanni knew the sound. An intermittent whining hum. Very faint at the moment, but awakening nonetheless. 

He preferred to sleep in satin. Specifically satin with a high hemline. Slight pink. Double spaghetti straps. Will knew and he knew Will knew and Will knew he knew he knew and nothing was said. 

His hand hesitated over the black silk robe he usually threw on in moments like these, deciding to leave it for once. Therapy could not be a ceaseless reminder of one's dependence. Patients need to know their own strength and see their contribution within families and communities. It was a delicate line to walk, but at least he had a reason. In addition to wanting to. 

Wherever his friend was, the situation was dire. Blue blanket thrashing as a nautical storm. 

“No.....no. Go back. No!”

“Will.”  
“WILL.”  
“WILL!”

“Wha...uh.......AGH!”

“I want you to hold me.”

“..........................................okay.”

-

“The dream-”

“Same as all of them....I don't remember...not this.”

“Do you feel you're not being heard?”

“I can't think of anything to say.”

“Close your eyes. Breathe in. What do you feel?”

“Shame. Ashamed.”

“What-”

“I wanted to go back."  
"I liked it.”

“You felt powerful.”

“Yeah."   
"You know.”

“Each life ended cutting the chain link to events that would come to alter the course of human history. Of course you did.”

“If I can end a life if I choose, wouldn't I be exercising just as much power if I chose not to?”

There was no response.

“I won't lose you. I'm done yelling. When you do that you take momentary gratification over your future- our future. I want you to call me when you get the urge to- I can tell you to take a deep breath... and other cliches.”

His friend looked up at him with wide eyes, 'our future' playing on a continuous loop in his mind.

“You got something on under that?”

“Coordinating boyshort.”

Will pulled him closer and fell asleep.

-

November.

Saturday.

“Why is it when you're dressed conservatively, I know you're wearing women's clothes?”

Heather gray wool slacks and a mint green cardigan set. A necklace of aged pearls completed the look. Head tilted slightly, giving serious consideration to something he'd never pondered before. 

Will had gotten his first Call that day at work. Weeknights and weekends were when he was needed most. Usually that meant at the store.

“Will.”

“Close your eyes. Breathe. How do you feel?”

“The world is falling from beneath my feet.”

“Look down.”

“Now it's spinning.”

“The world isn't spinning. You are.”

“My natural state.”

“Don't say that...”

“The only physical connection God allows me.”

“No! No- we'll figure something out. Just tell yourself you'll wait a couple days. And then... don't do it. I love you so much. Please don't let them take you away from me for some asshole. Fuck him.”

“Her.”

“Whatever. Just come home to me. Please.”

“Looks great.”

“Just pasta.”  
Farfalle with sheep's milk cheese and sweet acorn squash marinara.

“I meant the outfit. And pasta's great. Goes well with this.”  
Pulling a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau from a brown paper bag.  
“Don't think I forgot.”

-

“One year ago. Our first night.”  
Hanni pulled his friend closer, this time just because he could. The dark bronze freestanding fireplace not unlike the oil drum fire they huddled beside as evening fell and the absurd godless chill of their situation had sunk in.   
Each secretly taking pride in the fact that neither had flinched.


	3. Humanity, Requited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps we just have you in common.

February 

“I don't date.”

“My partner would like you.”

Her colleague's iPhone seemed to function almost solely as a seemingly endless source of photos of his friend/roommate/soulmate? She could never really bring herself to ask for clarification, but she was pretty sure she had seen most of the what the phone had to offer, although never the same pic twice.

“Will.”  
He added, as if there were any doubt.  
Some new pictures just for good measure.  
Eliciting the same warmth in shared perception.

“Once. No promises.”

-

A syrup-infused hibiscus blossom coaxed ever so slowly to open in champagne effervescence.   
Amongst others atop the circular piece of modern architecture that was Hannibal and Will's coffee table.   
Eschewing furniture to sit casually on the soft rug. 

“I think someone might be an author.”

“Wonderful.”

“I didn't mean me...”

“But Will did nothing.”  
His attempt at humor.

“He won't even let me smoke.”

“I want him to live a long and healthy life. Because I hate him.”

“Hate you too.”   
A little peck on the cheek.  
“My valentine.”

“I brought him a replacement.”

“You don't know that- it was probably just the placebo.”

“You had a fifty percent chance of receiving an active patch, and if it were- I can assure you, it was the correct dose.”

“I'm not OCD.”

A double-blind comparative analysis of sertraline, transdermal nicotine, and aversion therapy in the treatment of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.   
All groups receiving cognitive behavioral therapy.   
Soon to be published, with one additional author. 

“Specific phobia can constitute the primary presentation."   
"Dr. Bloom?” 

“I would need to assess the patient in a more clinical environment...”

“Is this your idea of foreplay?”

Will's overture elicited a rising red tide she attempted to conceal by looking down at her knees. It was futile.

The flowers had come fifteen to a jar and on the table sat the last three.

“Okay, what's your deal?”

“I was his therapist. He was my patient. He needed love. As did I. Sometimes we hold each other at night. I need sexual intercourse. I suspect he may need sex, but he doesn't want to have sex with me. I though he might want to have sex with you, as do I.”

“You're not jealous?”

“I am... but it would hurt more if we couldn't find a way to stay together.” 

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“You abandoned your life to live on the street.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“The city doesn't look half bad from here. You make a beautiful home together.” 

Dusk fell behind two intersecting walls, mostly nine-pane windows layered nearly two stories high.   
Fireplace embers dwindling where the walls join, but more apparent in fading light. 

“So, sofa... to start?”  
She wasn't really sure of the logistics. They didn't seem to have a clue, happy to defer to her. 

She sat between them, each with an arm around her shoulders and another arm they were non-committal about. She takes their hands in hers.

“Since you're the jealous type, I should kiss you first.”  
Pressing her lips softly to his, parting them slightly with the tip her tongue, Will caressing his back around Alana.  
“You're wonderful.”

“What did I do?”

“Exactly.”  
“But I'm not saying who's better.”  
As she turns to Will, he reaches for his partner's hand- I'm still here with you.

-

“Whatever you want to wear in bed is perfectly fine.”

“You told her.”

“When you were fixing the drinks. You should enjoy this.”

“I might enjoy it.”  
Alana throws Hanni a wry grin and punches Will in the arm. 

He winces when she's not looking.   
“I should kill the fire. Go on ahead- I'll be in in a minute.”

“It's a wrap. Just untie it here... and here... and... there you go.”  
The form-fitting jade fabric falls to reveal a ruby satin negligee with black velvet edging.

She pulls his arms up to her sides.   
“Don't be shy.”  
He could think of at least two ways he liked this. 

“Lets find one for you. Got anything new?”

“Yes.”

He retreated into the walk-in closet and closed the door.

“I won't bite- not that hard.”  
“Oh. My. God. Love this.”

Pajama shorts and t-shirt of abstracted flowers and brush strokes in cream, gold, and muted rust. In microfiber with thick charcoal lace trim.

“What is it?”

“DKNY.”

“Need this. But I can settle for you in it.”  
She pulled their hips together, both relishing in the slippery sensation. 

“Am I too late?”

“There is a dress code.”  
Hanni only half joking, not eager to share his newfound source of validation just yet.

“Whatever that code is, I'm in violation.”  
Will takes a few moments to strip and lie in the center of the bed, clasping his hands behind his head. Smug confidence in knowing he won't have long to wait.   
The slumber party just gained a new plaything.

“I have strawberry, blackberry, and green apple.”  
“Well, someone had to be practical.”  
She shoots a teasing glare at Will.

“Blackberry.”

“Why is it his choice?”

“He's very sensitive to scent. Wait, why didn't I get unscented- should have gotten unscented.”

“I like blackberry... not synthetic?”

“No, no, all natural.”

She pours a few drops in her palm and waits a moment for the lubricant to warm, coating her fingertips, bringing them to two specific points on Will's chest that he, judging from his reaction, hadn't seemed to have prior knowledge of their existence.

“Uh... oh-ho... oh that's good. I'm kind of scared of how good that feels.”  
He's beginning to become aroused and reaches down in modesty.

Alana takes a polyurethane glove from her bag and slides it over her right hand.

“Now I'm really scared.”

“My fingers won't do anything you don't tell them to do. You're in complete control.”   
She kisses him reassuringly on the forehead and he relaxes a bit.

“Okay.”

This time she pours a much more generous amount of the blackberry stuff and waits an extra long time for it to come to body temperature before dipping gloved fingers, holding some in reserve in the ungloved palm.

Hanni automatically holds his hand and he automatically grasps back.

“Okay, okay that's fine.”

Just a slight external pressure from fingertips, hand curved around with the slick, gloved palm on the perineum.

Suddenly the need for modesty returning.  
“You can go in now- just one.”

“Of course."   
"Tell me how you feel- constant feedback.”  
Her voice is reassuring in a professional sort of way. He wonders how often she does this.   
Then he doesn't care.

“Good, would be the word I'd use. Yeah, like that. A little slower. Yeah.”

“You take-”  
She looks at Hanni and then down at Will's hand.

He takes her lead, letting the lubricant warm before gently grasping his friend. Slight motion in his gloved hand, brushing the glans with each stroke.   
The glove lending an especially enveloping sensation.

“Two. I want two now.”

Pouring the reserve from her left hand into the palm of her right, letting surface tension take it along the length of her fingers.  
“Deep breath.”

“Oh."  
"Yeah.”

With his free hand, Hanni pets the crown of his head, still not entirely without concern.

“Faster, please.”

“Who?” She asks.

“Both.”

They oblige. And wickedly each reclaim a nipple.

“I'm pretty sure I'm going to die. But don't stop. Jesus Christ don't stop.”

He comes for three minutes straight. Wave after countless wave from the base of his spine to the top of his head.   
He assumes through his legs as well, if he could feel them.

When he begins to regain awareness of his surroundings, he finds he's made a snow angel of sweat on the duvet.   
Hanni stroking his head again, like a fretting parent coaxing him back to reality. Will kisses his forehead as he rises to go collect himself, taking the top layer of bedding with him to throw in the laundry.

When he returns he finds Alana now in his place of honor, Hanni fingering the hemline of her glorified slip, eyes with intent usually meant for a glass of wine, giving the distinct impression of a hibernating-in-basement window wells, pre-verbal state. 

“Really, I should-”

“I think we should let him. He's probably very good.”  
“Not that you wouldn't be.” She quickly amends.

“No, you're right. And I want you to have the best, whoever that happens to be.”

Hanni immediately takes his cue as Will takes her earlobe between his lips.

“If I weren't still buzzed, that would really tickle. Still does, but I'm too buzzed to care.” She flashes Will a warm smile. “Ooh- he is good.”

Will moves below her ear to suck along her neck, placing a hand on her lower back, rubbing in a soft circular motion, smoothing alongside her right breast with his left hand, thumb brushing a nipple.

Lying back, surrendering to a nest of pillows, she pulls Will to her lips, inviting him into a deep kiss.   
The possession of her body nearly complete, she grabs him by the shoulders and digs her nails in. The side she punched extra tender.   
He stifles himself, not wanting to ruin her moment of ecstasy.

“FUUUUUUCK..........YEAH.”

Hanni looks up to notice his companions appear to be joined at the hair. And feels a twinge of melancholy.   
Alana pulls him up to return his kiss as best she can.

“Never better. By a long shot. Transcendent.”

Will rolls his eyes.   
“Okay, time for me to contribute. And time for you to relax and stop being the perfect host."   
"I always wondered if I'd be any good at this.”

His partner's eyes widen, just beginning to believe what he's hearing. And now even less capacity for speech.

Alana, presently incapable of surprise, motions for Hanni to lie against her and for Will to toss her the the lube, coating her fingertips and brushing them along two specific places on his chest, breathing warmly above an ear.

Will holds a hand to his stomach. “I always meant to tell you how cute this is, I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea.”   
“No risk of that now.”

“I know!” Alana chimes in through afterglow. “How is it so perfectly round- it's like, in defiance of God's will.”

Hanni's eyes now dart wildly, disbelieving. He silently repeats the word 'will.'

“I think I'll start up here, if that's okay with you.”   
Will takes his hand and looks into his eyes. They're present and pleading, so at least he's not physically in shock. Shouldn't prolong anticipation.

Lifting smooth floral brush strokes and dark lace, pressing his lips to what thumbed it's nose at the sky, Will licks and kisses an ever-narrowing spiral before plunging his tongue through the navel, pulling back to kiss it before darting back in. 

Now sensing growing arousal pressed against him, he places a hand back on his friend's stomach and kisses it one last time, as if it were rude not to say a proper goodbye.

“Okay, here goes...”  
Taking just the tip at first, then remembering the glans and moving the tip of his tongue along it, then moving it up and down on his tongue, then attempting to take it into his throat and immediately feeling dinner try to make an escape. Coughing hoarsely. “Whoa.”

“This is the best part of the night.”  
“Don't worry, you'll get it. Focus on breathing through your nose.”   
It was a long afterglow.

It helped a little. He could handle it about halfway and took a spare glove with some blackberry goo for the base.   
Hanni didn't care. That is, if he noticed at all. 

Will swallowed. Of this he felt an enormous sense of accomplishment.

Pulling himself up to rest his head on the pillows, Alana shifting to the other side with Hanni in between, pulling blankets and sheets up over their bodies, Will gazes into his friend's eyes, stroking his opposite temple.

In the twilight of sleep, where dream and reality exist side-by-side, Will thinks he may hear his name being called. 

-

“Are you sure you can't stay?”

“I really should be going.”  
“Thank you for the wonderful evening.”  
The apartment smelled like a cafe and felt like a courtroom.   
She knew these situations had a way of making certain things impossible to avoid any longer and she wasn't about to contribute to any further delay.  
A thankful smile and glance to each of them and out the door.

Hanni turns back to the coffeemaker. 

“Look at me.”  
“Please look at me.”  
“My love.”  
Voice breaking.

Hanni reluctantly raises his head, the eyes of a child who's seen far more than he should.

“Yes. I want to sleep with her.”  
Funny thing about their arguments- each side had the same voice.

“No, I don't get that from you. I only get everything I never found in another human being. Things I didn't know I needed. Things I didn't know existed. And you just brought yourself to me, not a thought about what it would do to you- your life just over as you knew it and I bet that never even crossed your mind because you'd found that thing you never thought was for you. We're not made to be alone but you thought God forgot about you- well I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You would never give up on me and I'm sure as shit never giving up on you. You're the one I want to hold. I get through the day because I know I'm coming home to you. I want to spend the rest of my life coming home to you. I knew you would find me. I knew. I didn't want to drag you into my world. But I'm so happy you came.”

His friend had already poured two cups and added sugar to his own, leaving the other unsweetened.   
As he did every morning.   
Eyes brimming with a blank intensity.   
Will had sensed this in the presence of someone else only one or two other times in his life, emotions overwhelming and in opposition to one another, host left motionless, speechless, waiting for some part of nature to erode the least viable, and break the dam in the appropriate direction. 

“I know you know this.”   
“Maybe your body doesn't.”  
“I'm not leaving you alone until it does- can't get rid of me today. Don't even try.”  
“Please-”  
Beckoning him to the sofa.

Hanni brings the coffee.

Will wraps him in a left arm.  
And rests a head on his shoulder.  
And takes his partner's hand in his own.  
Weaving their fingers together.


End file.
